The Blackest of Nights
by Blr
Summary: Part Two of a trilogy that begins with Darker Days Ahead. Set after Black Dawn. As the town of Morganville teeters on the brink of madness, nothing is certain. Claire and her friends are in the worst danger they've experienced yet, and the entire town's safety rests in the hands of a very few key players. When all hope is lost, how does one find the strength to carry on? Please R/R
1. Prologue

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello and welcome back. If this is the first time you've read my stuff, I recommend you turn back now and read the first part of this trilogy, Darker Days Ahead. If you've finished part one, thanks for hanging around for part two. And welcome to my... teaser trailer, as it is. As always, I ask that you read, enjoy, review, fav. Any of the four works for me. All of the four is my preference. Much love to all of you. ~ Billie

PROLOGUE

The sun was rising. As the nocturnal denizens of Morganville were finding their sleeping spots, the human citizens were rising, completely unaware of their very precarious situation. The home that most had known their entire lives was no longer the home they had learned to navigate. Bracelets and name dropping wouldn't be enough anymore. Dutifully paying ones blood taxes was no longer an assurance that one would be left in peace (or as close to peace as one ever got in Morganville).

Things had changed. A revolution was underway. Death was in every shadow, hovering over every shoulder, waiting for one mistake, one wrong step, one accident - or even just the right time. And yet, there was no sign. No warning that things weren't as they should be. Nothing except a house that stood empty when it never had before, and the ghost of a girl fading in the sunlight as she stood by the open window, waiting and hoping that someone - anyone - would return home. As she faded away, the girl thought she saw movement at the end of the street and prayed that it was her friends, the only friends she had ever known in a life full of sorrow and sadness, a life cut brutally short, finally returning to the safety of Glass House.

But the figure was not one of Glass House's four companions. It was a young, slim woman, wearing a pair of cheap running shoes. She jogged at a slow pace - slow enough that any veteran jogger would know that she was a novice. It was fortunate that there weren't very many early-morning joggers in Morganville. She wore a brand new matching sweat suit - gray sweatpants and a zip-up hooded sweatshirt. The hood was pulled up over her head, where a plain blue ball cap covered the girl's hair. Huge aviator sunglasses covered most of a makeup-free face.

The jogger paused at the corner of Lot Road, stretching as she looked left and right for oncoming traffic - or maybe for anyone paying too close of attention to her. Satisfied, she stood, rounded the corner, and headed not for the empty Glass House, but the newly built home across the street. No one noticed when the jogger veered off the road and onto the newly landscaped yard of the home. No one saw when she knelt down on the porch behind bushes that had been strategically placed to prevent an easy view of the comings and goings of the home's owner.

****No one noticed as she pressed the buzzer beside the door and whispered a few select words into the speaker. And if anyone noticed as she opened the door and slipped into the house, no one mentioned it.


	2. 1 - Claire

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Obviously picking up where the other left off. Thanks again for reading, thanks again for taking the time out of your life to allow me to share something I enjoy with you. As always, please read, please enjoy, please review, and please feel free to fav/follow. Also, if you're NOT enjoying what I'm writing, don't hesitate to message me and tell me what you'd like to see instead. I do enjoy writing, and so if you have a request, I can always try to get you a little side story in just for you.

CLAIRE

Claire had stopped trying to determine what time it was. She knew she had slept at some point, she knew she was hungry - really hungry - and she knew she was thirsty. Her throat felt like she had swallowed sand. For the hundredth time, she pulled her cell phone out of her pocket, only to find it still lifeless. She knew it was stupid to even begin to think that it would magically charge itself while it rested in her pocket - but hey. This was Morganville. The bizarre occurred daily.

As she lay in the darkness, Claire spent most of her waking time trying to figure out a way out of her prison. So far, she had nothing. Obviously, she was coming up blank - there was nothing down here that could be used to do anything at all - there was no way she was going to be able to jump high enough to reach the ceiling. All she could hope for was that she would have the ability to slip past whoever was keeping her prisoner when they came to check on her. If they came to check on her.

As the hours ticked slowly by, Claire began to feel less and less certain that she had gotten her message out, though she knew it was crazy to even begin to think that someone would just be able to find her when she wasn't able to give them any sort of information about where she could possibly be held. While the Claire she had been before Morganville would have curled up into a ball and wept in fear, Claire wasn't that person anymore. She had escaped from worse situations than this. Granted, she usually had her friends with her, or at least out looking for her, but - no. To continue down that path lead to defeat.

Claire knew better than that. She was strong enough to help herself. And if, like she thought, Shane could be out there in danger, she needed to get out of here not just for her own life, but for Shane's as well. He had suffered enough. He had spent far too much of his life feeling helpless and hopeless. Claire knew that she was what gave him hope - she gave him the strength to face down things that should have torn him apart. She was what made him the man he was today. And while Claire wished that it wasn't the case, while she wished he could look in the mirror and see what she saw in him, she had to be pragmatic. She had to survive because that was the only way that Shane would survive.

And so she lay in wait, listening to the darkness for any hints that someone was around. Eventually, she drifted off to sleep once more.

Claire dreamed. This wasn't unusual for Claire, and in the time since she'd arrived in Morganville, nightmares had become a common occurrence. Not a nightly thing - she usually had fairly positive dreams, all things considered - but she'd had enough now that they didn't frighten her as much as they had when she was younger. But, as her dream started, she was fairly certain it would be a doozy.

_She was sitting on a tree stump in a small clearing in the middle of a forest. All things considered, she was somewhere beautiful - the trees were tall and full of foliage, the sunlight was warm as it shined down on her face. Somewhere in the distance, however, she heard the call of a creature - an inhuman, if not necessarily scary call. It sounded as if it were searching for something, and probably not for a friend to sit down and chat with. The call went on and on, undulating in the crisp clean air._

_Claire felt the hair on the back of her neck prick, and goosebumps rolled their way up her body. She didn't know for sure, but she had an idea that she didn't want whatever it was making that sound to find her. She stood, poised to run, when suddenly a strong, cold wind blew through the forest, starting in the north and flowing past her to the south. Towards the thing calling in the woods. The trees rattled and shook as if shivering from the burst of cold air, and Claire froze in her tracks._

_The wind wasn't natural. There was no way that a wind that strong could just come from nowhere and stop that suddenly. As the creature called out again, closer than before, Claire realized that the wind had been caused by the creature itself. I had called up the wind so that it would carry her scent to it. So that it could smell where she was. If that was the case, there would be no running. There would be no hiding. There would only be fighting._

_Claire dashed into the treeline looking for anything that could possibly help her, shivering as another wind flowed through the trees. The creature was triangulating her position. It was determining exactly where she was, so that it could cut a straight line through the woods to get to her. Claire thought of the Big Bad Wolf she had once seen in a school play of Little Red Riding Hood. _The better to see you with, my dear... The better to hear you with, my dear...

_"My," she whispered softly. "Grandmother, what big teeth you have."_

_She looked up to the sun, shining uncaring in a beautiful, cloudless blue sky. She wished and prayed and hoped that she would just wake up. She would rather have been back in that dark, empty basement than here, in the woods, chased by a monster she had no defense against. A gust of wind blasted her again, and she gritted her teeth, squinting her watering eyes against the frigid air. She wouldn't give up. She couldn't. And even though she knew that it was all a dream, that the creature behind her couldn't actually hurt her, her body responded with a fear she hadn't felt since she had stood over her lifeless body._

_This was death, dream or not. Claire's body remembered death. It remembered pain, and fear, that feeling of helplessness and hopelessness and, above all else, it remembered the shock of the whole thing. Claire's body refused to allow her to react rationally. Her muscles screamed in pain from straining to run - to just run and hide and hope that the creature would somehow pass her by. Her nerves sent electrical shocks through her body, urging her to just go, go go. Her heart was pounding from the adrenaline coursing through her veins. Her eyes felt swollen, her ears felt like satellite dishes, bulging as she became hyperalert to everything around her. She tensed against her body's responses, forcing herself to think clearly. If this was a dream, it was telling her something._

_She looked again up at the sun, which was slowly but certainly getting brighter and brighter the longer she looked at it. And in that moment between sleeping and waking, she realized what the dream was telling her - monster or not, someone was searching for her._

When she awoke, the basement was blindingly bright. The trap door at the ceiling was open. She gasped and tried to stand, to run, to hide - but her body was stiff and cold from the basement's floor, and the best she could do was sort of shuffle off to the side. Claire was thankful nothing was in the basement except her - the light had affected her eyes terribly, what with having gone who knew how long without light. She gasped, crawling on her hands and knees, trying to figure out what exactly was happening, but knowing that she needed to try her best to hide.

The light pouring from above was eclipsed as someone dropped to the floor. Claire mentally cursed. The person wasn't using a ladder, which meant one of two things - either they were also a prisoner, or they weren't human. Either way, she wasn't in the position she had hoped for. The individual stood up and glanced around the room, facing Claire instantly. And as her eyes finally began to adjust to the light (which wasn't, she realized now, even that terribly bright - a 60 watt bulb at most) she was able to make out the person in front of her. Her bladder threatened to release itself as Claire stood face to face with her captor.

"Jason," she whispered.

****The young, sick, twisted, perverted vampire smiled in response.


	3. 2 - Captain Obvious

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello again. =D Welcome back. If you've hit the third chapter, I'm hoping you've made it through the entire first story, as well as (obviously) the first two of this one. And, if you've read 40 some odd thousand words of my writing, I'd like to think you enjoy it. So thanks for that. Random outburst that I just can't keep quiet about anymore. I'm an aspiring writer. Just so you know. And I'm starting to have an idea in my head that will involve writing an original book, maybe a series. So yeah. I'm pretty amped about it. But, that's for another time (although it DOES have one thing in common with this trilogy. Probably not terribly hard to figure out what it is). Anyway, I'd like to invite you to read, enjoy, review, fav/follow, whatever it is you feel moved to do after you read, even if it's PMing me and telling me how terrible my story is. I promise I won't be mean back. And yes - if you want to tell me something about my story that you don't want to leave for public viewing, I am more than happy to receive a PM. Another random outburst - I'm totally excited that Deadliest Catch is back on right now. It really just makes my much better. I'm bringing this up because I'm a very curious sort, and found a fantastic Harry Potter/Deadliest Catch crossover that I just fell in love with (although it's not really a crossover, it just deals with crab fishing) that I feel the need to plug. s/7502511/1/The-Sea-King If you are a Potter fan (and have finished the series) go check that out. It's (honestly) a better series ending than the one Rowling wrote. Much love to you and yours. ~ Billie

CAPTAIN OBVIOUS

I had messed up. I had messed up so bad. I had never been the smartest person around, but I had prided myself on my ability to call bullshit when people were telling me things that obviously weren't true. But somehow, I had let this vampire, with her talk of holy wars and monsters get into my head and turn me into her puppet. I knew why it had happened, but I didn't want to go too far into what the reason said about me just yet. Right now, I had more important things to attend to.

The girl, Daphne, lay on my bed. She was still unconscious, and had lost a hell of a lot of blood, but she was still breathing and her heart was still beating. I took that as a good sign. I just didn't know what to do with her now. I covered her in a blanket and went into the bathroom to wash the blood and who knew what else off my hands. I looked at myself in the mirror and cringed.

I was beat up. Pretty badly. But that wasn't what made me feel like crawling into a hole somewhere and never coming out. I had given the vampires exactly what they wanted. I had hand delivered twenty - no, I corrected myself mentally - eighteen people to them. Some of those people, while I wouldn't exactly call them friends of mine, were good people. People who had never done anything to anyone, at least not that I knew of. Above all else, I had, whether I meant to or not, basically murdered eighteen people. Did that make me a serial killer or a mass murderer? Did it matter?

I shook my head again to clear my mind of that sort of stuff. Right now, it wouldn't help me. I had to get cleaned up, I had to get some stuff from the house, and I had to move my two rescues as fast as I could. Naomi knew where I lived. If she managed to realize I had run off, she'd come after me.

I knew the chances were slim that she would have noticed. As I was fist-fighting my way out of the park, dragging two unconscious kids with me, she was busy doing what demons like her did best - killing innocents. I sighed and headed into the kitchen after checking on Daphne. She was still the same. I took a minute to look her over, trying to figure out if anything was broken, but I was never good at fixing things. Just breaking them.

She was pale, but I wasn't sure if that was just the makeup she wore or if it was a sign of something worse. I had been considering washing her face, but I was scared she'd wake up and think I was trying to do something worse to her. Although, really, I'd already done the worst thing I could to her - taken her from the relative safety of her own home and given her over to be killed. I couldn't bring back the people I hadn't been able to save, but I promised myself that I would do whatever I could to help fix the mess I made.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered to Daphne. I turned the light off on my way out and pulled the door closed behind me.

Then, I went to check on my other rescue - the Collins boy. He had been lucky. He was at the end of the line, farthest from the vampires. He hadn't suffered any wounds from them. At least, not any other than that massive blow on the head he got when Michael Glass had brought him to me. Surprisingly, he was awake when I entered the living room, where he was resting on my couch.

Well, he was conscious, at least. I stood back from him as he moaned and lifted a hand to his head. When his eyes fluttered open, I noticed he was still having trouble focusing. Damn. I wasn't a doctor. I had no idea how to fix whatever was wrong with his brain. And somehow, I had the feeling that taking him to the hospital wasn't the smartest of decisions right now. His searching eyes found mine, and his jaw set tightly.

"Hey man," I said quietly. "You were right. They played me."

"No shit," he mumbled, his voice harsh and raspy. He frowned, coughed weakly, and flinched as the cough obviously made his head hurt worse. "Water."

I went into the kitchen and got him a glass of tap water. I had heard somewhere one time that if you drank ice water when you were really thirsty, you would throw it up. I pulled out of my utensil drawer a straw left over from some fast food order months previously and put it in the cup. I carefully carried it back out to the living room. Collins was still laying down on the couch, though he had rolled over onto his side. I handed the cup to him with a warning to take it easy. He grunted in acknowledgement and then carefully sipped.

I sat on the cluttered coffee table and waited for him to finish. When he seemed done, I carefully took the cup from him and sat it on the floor beside the couch. "We're gonna have to move soon," I said, hoping he would be able to walk on his own.

"Where?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "I've messed up so bad, man. I thought I was helping. I thought I was chosen to get rid of the vampires once and for all. And the whole time, that bitch was just setting me up."

Collins grunted in response. I didn't know if he was agreeing or disagreeing or just clearing his throat. "How many did you save?"

"Two," I said, and when my voice caught at the end of the word, I pretended I just hadn't noticed. I also pretended that my eyes weren't welling up with tears, and ignored the tears as they started falling. "You and the kid. Daphne."

Collins coughed. "Good." He grunted. "No kid should die because you're an idiot."

"She's hurt."

"How bad?"

"Don't know."

He nodded and I fell silent. I didn't know what to say. We sat that way for a while. It felt like an eternity. I think we'd have sat there a lot longer if he hadn't started to sit up. It took him a few tries, but he finally got himself righted. "Alright. Where are we?"

I told him. He grunted again. "Too far to walk, then. And if we drive your car, someone's going to see."

"So what do we do?"

He looked at me, or at least he tried to. "Can you jack a car?"

Fortunately, I could. My neighbor behind me had an old cadillac that she kept in her garage in her backyard. She only ever drove it to church. She was one of those old ladies. A few months ago, her kids had moved her into a nursing home, but no one had been over to get her stuff yet. I had a key to the garage since the kids paid me to keep the house looking halfway decent, and I figured she wouldn't need the car any time soon.

I helped Shane over to the garage and opened the door, doing my best to make sure we weren't seen. Since it was the middle of the day, and all of my neighbors either worked or minded their own business, I was pretty sure the coast would be clear. Once I got him in the car, I ran back to grab Daphne. She seemed like she was coming around. She moaned as I picked her up as gently as I could, and I carried her to the garage, being careful to stay out of the view of her parents' house.

****It took a few tries to get the engine to roll over on the car, but it finally caught. I carefully backed out, pausing long enough to close the garage door and lock it behind us, and then followed Shane's directions. We didn't go to Glass House, though. Instead, we ended up in front of the Day House. Shane instructed me to wait there as he carefully and clumsily made his way up to the front porch where Grandma Day sat. With no other option, I leaned my seat back and lay low, hoping no one would spot us.


	4. 3 - Eve

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So, I realized I have yet to tell you guys that I don't own any of this. I don't. Because, you know. Obviously if I did, this is how the books following Black Dawn would have gone. I still haven't read Bitter Blood, so forgive me if I'm messing stuff all up in here, but I promise I don't mean any offense to any of the characters in the series. Just playing around with what I wish would happen. Also, it's a great place for me to give my favorite character I ever made a home. I like to think she'd fit right in in Morganville - though that may remain to be seen as I continue through this trilogy. As always, I invite you to read, enjoy, review, and fav/follow. As always, feel free to PM with story requests, or story complaints. Much love to you and yours. ~ Billie

EVE

I couldn't believe what was happening. Here I was, trapped in a jail cell with my husband. Normally, that could be kind of sexy, except for the fact that he was getting hungrier by the second, and I was his only source of food. It also wasn't incredibly sexy that he was the whole reason we were trapped.

I sat on the cot, eyeing him as he sat on the bench on the other wall. He must have known how freaked out I was, because he was keeping his distance. And as much as I loved him, and as much as I trusted him, I couldn't help but think back to the last time things had been this bad. That time, it had ended with him clamped on to me, sucking my life literally out of my body. It had been the scariest moment of my life, and while we had been moving on, I still wasn't to the point yet where he could kiss me on the neck, or where I could completely let my guard down around him.

This whole situation was just another strike against our marriage. How could I live this way, knowing that at any time he could turn on me like some kind of crazed giant leech? I closed my eyes, hoping that would help my pounding head. But it didn't. Because closing my eyes meant not knowing where Michael was. And not knowing where Michael was was terrifying. And I hated myself for being afraid of my husband. Michael was a good man. He loved me. I loved him.

But since the incident with the draug, things had just been so damn fragile between us. And I hated that. I hated that sometimes, I had nightmares where my husband - the man I loved, the man I had pledged my entire life to - turned on me with red eyes and tore me apart, laughing while he did it.

Michael's eyes were red now. Not the crazy bright red that was an obvious sign that he was about to attack, not even the red of the desert sunsets. But it was there. I don't think anyone other than me would have noticed it, but I'd been gazing into those eyes for years now. I saw it. And I knew it meant our time was running short.

Last night - or was it longer than that now? How many days had passed? How long had we been in here? The night of the funeral, I finally decided would be my new way of keeping things straight, was a haze. Michael and I had been leaving the funeral - Claire and Shane were still hanging around. But I was getting freaked as more and more humans left - not that there were many to begin with, but at least there had been a sense of safety in numbers - and I wanted to head home. I had been pretending that I wouldn't be scared, home alone with Michael, and maybe I wouldn't have been. But in that moment, I had been torn between going home and staying. I knew Shane wouldn't let anything happen to me.

I gritted my teeth against the scream that was trying to escape. I should have known Michael wouldn't let anything happen to me. I _knew_ Michael wouldn't let anything happen to me. But even as I knew it, I also knew that I was lying to myself. Michael wouldn't let anything happen to me as long as he was in control. We had ended up here, in this cell, after all.

My mind stopped for just a second. Was this how women in abusive relationships justified staying in them? _"He's fine, as long as he's in control. But sometimes, things get out of hand and then he just gets angry. And when he gets angry..."_

But that wasn't really the case in my book, was it? I mean, Michael was fine as long as we weren't in a life-threatening situation. As long as he had a supply of blood to feed off of. As long as I wasn't bleeding profusely and waving it under his nose. As long as... As long as we weren't living in this Morganville. This town, when it ran the way it was planned to run, was safe for the two of us, or at least as safe as we were going to get. Michael and I could live here happily.

But now, because of the things my friends and I had done - not just because of us, of course, but I had to admit we had played our part - Morganville was not the same. The status quo had been blown to hell over and over again, like it was a zombie in one of Shane's video games. And there was just no time for us all to recover - for us all to make the changes we needed in order for everyone to survive safely.

All of a sudden, I thought about all the times I had railed against donating blood. How many people had been injured because I was being selfish? Probably none. But plenty could have been.

But was I being selfish by being unwilling to share my blood? I needed my blood. It kept me alive. My eyes drifted over to Michael. He needed blood, too. But, unlike my body, where my cells were dividing and multiplying even now while I lay on a cot in a cell that would likely be the last place I would ever see, Michael's body couldn't create its own blood. It needed a fresh supply - and it needed it on the regular.

Vampires weren't monsters. They were sick. The psychos like Shane's dad that thought all vampires were evil and should be destroyed were no more right than any of the other prejudiced bastards that had lived in our world. But then again, the vampires were killing us. Slowly but surely, they were destroying the Morganville residents from the inside out. They were destroying their souls, their hopes, the very essence of their beings.

Something had to change. There had to be some kindness somewhere in this whole messed up situation. There had to be some way that we could all actually live together in some semblance of harmony. I looked at Michael again. My dear, sweet, wonderful, handsome, gentle Michael. He'd been turned against his will. He'd been made into what he was with no real choice in the matter. But, weren't we all just a product of other people? None of us ever had any say in whether or not we were born into a family we liked, or to people we just tolerated until we didn't have to anymore. Look and Jason and me.

And look at how the two of us had turned out. I closed my eyes again, not caring anymore where Michael was, or what he was doing, or if he was hungry. I didn't want to think anymore, I just wanted to go back to normal, whatever normal was. I just wanted to stop having to ask myself questions there were no easy answers to. I just wanted to not have to be afraid.

****I sat up on the bed and Michael's eyes lifted to watch me. He was wary, scared, he didn't know the right answers any more than I did. And in that moment, he looked so young and so alone. I held my hand out to him, tears welling in my eyes. The look of relief that crossed his face made my heart swell. He came to me and sat beside me, putting his arms around me and holding me close. And in that moment, I wasn't afraid anymore.


	5. 4 - Shane

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know. The last chapter was a little rambling. But really, I'd expect nothing else from Eve were she in that situation. Anywho, I don't own any of this. I do, however, love it. I hope you're enjoying reading this, and if you are, I hope you'll be fantastic enough to chime in to let me know that you're enjoying it by faving or following it. And, of course, I live for reviews and PMs - positive or negative.

SHANE

It was hard to think clearly right now, what with the feeling that my eyeballs were going to fall out of my throbbing head at any minute. Michael had knocked me a good one, but I was thankful I'd at least put up a fight. I'd never seen him like that before. Sure we'd had our fights, sometimes even coming to blows, but I'd never really known just how strong he was. It was nothing like when I'd been fighting the vamps in the gym. Then, I'd been on more even ground.

When I was in elementary school, there had been this kid. Max. Not only had he been small for his age, he had been a total geek. Never talked to anyone, always had his head stuck in some book or another. Wanted to be something crazy like an astrophysicist or something. We picked on him incessantly, even though we knew he had a rough time what with his dad being dead and his mom working as basically a blood slave to some of the worst vampires the town had to offer.

We were kids. We'd been scared. It isn't easy growing up in Morganville. We'd always wanted to take our fear and our anger out on someone and here was this weak little boy just sitting there, like he was a gift to us all. Growing up with my dad, I knew violence. Not as much as I experienced after Alyssa's death, and after Mom, but I knew it even then. I'd seen fights. I'd seen grown men lay into each other after Dad and his friends had a few too many. I got it.

One day, this boy named Henry - he was a few years older than us, probably should've been in middle school by then - took it too far with Max. I never knew what he said. I just know that he leaned down and whispered something to Max, and that scrawny little boy, who'd been bullied since before we even knew what bullying was, just went off like a rocket.

There's a style to fighting. Even the wildest bar room brawl has it. You throw blows, yes, but you're protecting your weak spots at the same time. You keep your hands tight toward your middle to protect your ribs and your face. You duck, you dodge, you move to a sort of rhythm. That is, of course, unless you just don't care anymore. Max had reached that point.

He came at Henry like some sort of feral animal. He fought with his hands, with his feet, with his teeth. None of us had ever seen anything like it. Never. He took Henry down - a boy almost twice his size, as if he was a gazelle and Max was a lion. Henry lost the use of his left eye that day and almost died of an infection from a bite Max gave him on his upper right arm. We never saw Max again, but we did learn a valuable lesson. There is nothing more dangerous than a caged animal that has nothing left to lose.

That was how Michael had fought me the night of the funeral.

Grandma Day stood as I shuffle-stepped my way up the walk to her house. I waved for her to just stay where she was, and she nodded. I climbed the porch steps slowly, hoping I wouldn't puke my guts up on the old lady's deck. When I made it to the top, she scooted over to give me a seat on her old front swing. She didn't say anything, just sat with me as if it was perfectly normal for her to have people all beat to hell come and sit with her every day.

"It's all changing," I said softly, trying to shield my eyes from the sun. It looked like it was close to midday, so the overhang was helping quite a bit. But still, every ray of light reflected off of every window, every sparkle from the stones used on our streets when they mixed asphalt, it all felt like daggers in my head.

"Been changin' for a long time, the way I see it," she responded.

"Dude in the car over there tells me Amelie's dead. Says there's a new boss in town now, one that doesn't even pretend to hold with the fact that we're anything other than food."

Grandma Day simply grunted in reply.

"We're gonna fight," I continued.

"Damn right we are."

I fell silent. So did she. "I don't think we're gonna win," I whispered.

"Me neither," Grandma Day confessed. "But we gotta try. I'll not lay down my weapons and go peaceably, that's for sure."

I nodded. "So we're on the same page. Grandma Day, I need to talk to Hannah."

She sighed heavily. "I assumed as much. She's in her room. Go ahead in. You can try, but you know she hasn't been right since the mayor died."

"I know." I stood up carefully and headed into the house that mirrored my own. It was homey - homier than ours was. After all, this was the house a family lived in, not a bunch of teens trying to be adults. I quietly walked up the steps, taking them slowly and swallowing down bile as my stomach tried to hurl everything inside it up onto the carpeted stairs. I walked down the hallway to the room that would have been Claire's in the Glass House. Claire. I couldn't think about her right now. I had to assume she was somewhere safe, or I didn't think I would make it through this. I knocked on Hannah's door and waited for a reply. I didn't get one, but the knob was unlocked, so I went inside anyway.

Hannah was laying in her bed, the covers tossed off of her and bunched at the bottom. One foot hung over the side. She looked up at me with a look that bordered on hostility. "I didn't say you could come in," she snapped.

"You didn't say I couldn't, either," I responded. And, because I thought I was going to faint right then and there, I sat down on the floor near the door.

She eyed me angrily for a few more minutes before sitting up and straightening her pajama top, pulling it down over a well-toned stomach. "Well," she said, "What do you want?"

"I want your help," I replied.

"No." Hannah shook her head vehemently and went to lay back down.

"Before you say no, just hear me out." I told her everything I knew, which probably wasn't the whole story. And maybe I embellished on a few parts. But she'd been a virtual hermit these past few months, and I had no idea what she knew and what she didn't know. By the time I finished, I was so tired and so light-headed that I don't think I even cared if she agreed to help. I just wanted to lay down and get some sleep.

Hannah fell silent. I could see every emotion that crossed her face - disbelief, astonishment, fear, anger. "What do you want me to do about it, Shane?"

I sighed. "I want you to do what you were born to do, Hannah. I want you to fight. I want you to be the woman I know you are. I want you to do what's good, and right, and honorable. And you know Richard would want you to do the same."

A look of anger crossed Hannah's face, and I realized I'd made a mistake. "Don't pretend to know what Richard would have wanted, Collins."

I nodded slowly and carefully, trying to fight back the gray around my vision. "You're right. I don't know what he'd want. All I know is that right now, right here, we're in a fight for our lives. And I want all hands on deck when it goes down."

Hannah looked me up and down, _really_ looking at me for the first time. "You're hurt," she said, surprise coloring her voice. "Like, really hurt."

"Yeah."

"And instead of getting yourself looked at, you're here, asking me to help you, a virtual invalid, save a town full of people from creatures we have no real defense against."

"Yeah."

Hannah swore softly. "Let me get my things. You know I have a soft spot for the underdog."

I smiled and leaned back against the nearest wall, closing my eyes and relishing in the slight release it gave me from the nausea at hand. Everything was going to hell in a handbasket, but at least I'd have someone I trusted by my side when it did.


	6. 5 - Claire

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So, here we are. Just you and me. Hangin out, having a rockin good time (at least I am). SO I feel like I can be honest with you. I'm writing this chapter on the same day I posted chapter 1. This one (when it's finished) and the others have just been hanging out in my document manager. I'm scared to post them. Things are dark here in Morganville. Scary, even. And I mean, I know how it's all gonna play out, but the characters don't, and I'm so, so sorry for them. See, I have this nasty habit of treating fictional characters like they're real people. And I just feel bad that I'm doing what I'm doing to them. I'll try to make it up to them in the end. Maybe I will. Also, before you start messaging me after this chapter going, "Seriously? What the...?" Just trust me. I'm the Doctor. I'm quite clever. (And if you PM me to tell me you get this reference, I will seriously give you mad props, a shout-out, and a one shot of your choosing between a number of books/tv shows - I will list them if you ask). Anyway, as I said before, I don't own this, and I hope you read, enjoy, and review. Maybe even fav/follow me. Thanks to NarutoRox and Reddit511 for coming along with me to the second part of my trilogy. Thanks to everyone else who is reading this as well. I hope you'll stay with me for the long haul. Much love to you and yours. ~ Billie

CLAIRE

She was petrified. Sure, she'd known things were bad. Dangerously so. But she hadn't realized they were this bad. She was trapped in a hole with one of the seriously monstrous residents of Morganville. It was like Myrnin back when he was really, truly sick, but without the restraint. She shivered and carefully got to her feet.

"You're awake," Jason said, sounding incredibly cocky. "Good."

"Jason," Claire whispered. "Where am I?"

Jason chuckled as he sauntered closer to her. "You're in my guest room. What, you don't like what I've done to the place?" He spread his arms and gestured at the empty room.

Claire fought back the urge to throw up. Jason was sick. Twisted. But she'd seen him show kindness before. At least, when he thought he was going to get something out of the deal. She needed to play this through. And it was distinctly possible that she was going to have to do some awful things in order to get out of here alive.

She forced herself to smile at the young vampire in front of her. "No, I love it. Very... minimalistic."

Jason paused. He hadn't expected her to respond in any way other than fear. Maybe she had a shot.

"I'm kidding," Claire said, keeping the smile on her face. "I mean, it's got a lot of potential, but you know - it could really use some of the creature comforts of the living. Like a toilet."

Jason smirked in the dim light. "Yeah. Forgot about that."

"I um... I really need to go, by the way."

"Maybe later," he said, dismissing her pleas.

Claire couldn't stand up any more. Her head hurt, her heart hurt. Her knees were weak from fear. She sat back down, wincing when the movement made her stomach roll. "How did I get here?"

Jason came closer before sitting across from her. "You were given to me. All wrapped up like a pretty little present left on my doorstep by the mailman. Way I see it is you pissed someone off. Bad. And, for the first time in my life, fate thought it'd be nice to bring me a little bit of charity. In the form of you."

Claire swallowed hard. "Oh." She shivered again and felt the color drain from her face.

"Don't worry. I'm not gonna hurt you." The 'yet' at at the end of that sentence hung unspoken, but was clearly there. "It's nice to have some company, ya know? I mean, don't get me wrong, now that I'm a total badass vampire, I have all kinds of luck with the ladies - you know, I do love it when they scream. But still. It's nice to have someone around that I don't have to pretend in front of."

Claire sat on her hands to hide their shaking. "I can see how that would be difficult for you."

"Yeah, well. You know. Morganville. God's little shithouse."

Claire nodded. "You've got that right."

Jason sat in silence for a while, every so often moving just a little bit closer to Claire. Every time he moved, Claire jumped, cursing herself for her fear. Every time Claire jumped, Jason smirked. But there was a sadness in that smirk, a self-loathing. _He hates himself_, Claire realized. _He really, truly thought he'd be happier as a vampire, and now that he got his wish, he still hates himself. What must that feel like?_

After enduring what felt like an eternity of silence, Claire cleared her throat. "You know, I'm enjoying this whole, 'sit here in companionable silence' thing we've got going on, but I really, _really_ have to go to the bathroom."

He shook his head as if he was jerked out of a reverie. "Oh yeah. Sure. Hold on." Jason walked over to the hole and just jumped up through it. Claire heard him rooting around upstairs and cautiously went to the center. Was he really going to let her out? Or was he going to just bring her down a bucket?

She got her answer a few seconds later when he hopped back into the hole with her. "Hold out your hands."

Claire did so. It wasn't like she had much of a choice. She was a prisoner, and as Jason slapped a pair of handcuffs around her wrists, she knew that he knew it, too. After pressing the cuffs tight - too tight, to be honest - Jason picked her up and jumped up to the first floor. Claire let out a yelp of fear, but if she was being entirely truthful, he was actually very careful with her as he gently put her feet back on the ground.

Claire took a few glances around at the place - it was, unsurprisingly, pretty disgusting. Claire imagined that if he ate food, it would be infested with cockroaches. However, since he didn't, there were just empty bags of blood discarded just about everywhere. It was still disgusting, but he seemed to at least be a neat eater - not a drop was wasted.

His mattress was gross and obviously previously used, but that wasn't much of a concern to her. She wasn't the one sleeping there, after all. All she hoped was that the bathroom was at least kind of clean, and based on her experiences with Jason's personal grooming habits from when he was alive, there was at least an off chance that it had never even been used. Sure enough, as Jason opened a door and roughly lead her in, the bathroom looked pristine - at least as pristine as a low-income apartment bathroom could look.

She noticed there was no window - so no escape option in here. She lifted her eyes to meet Jason's. He didn't seem to be leaving.

"Thank you," she said quietly, "I think I can take it from here."

He smirked. "Yeah. I guess so."

He left and shut the door behind him, but not all the way. He left it open just a crack. Not, Claire thought, so he could watch her, but so he would know if she was doing something other than using the restroom. Claire fumbled with the catch on her dress pants, but she couldn't quite get her hands to line up properly to release the catch. She cursed herself for not having just worn jeans to the funeral - handcuffed hands could take care of buttons with no problem.

Biting her bottom lip, Claire tried to just wiggle out of the pants, sucking her stomach in as tightly as she could. But there was no luck there, either. Oh God... she was going to have to ask Jason for help. Jason _Rosser_. To help her take her pants off. Claire closed her eyes and gulped. "Um, Jason," she said in a thready voice, "I um, I need a little help."

She felt her cheeks flush bright red as Jason pushed the door back open, a wolfish grin on his face. "Do you, now?"

Claire dropped her eyes. "Please," she begged, "I really have to go to the bathroom."

"I'll do it for a kiss," he said with a leer.

Claire felt tears begin to well up in her eyes. "Please."

She thought he wasn't going to back down. She thought that by refusing to kiss him, maybe she'd pushed him to demand more. But instead, something inside him - some darkness - seemed to give way, and he smiled that self-deprecating smile she had seen him give down in the basement every time she jumped. "I was just kidding," he said, although the tone in his voice told her he was only saying that because she'd rejected him. He slowly and gently lifted her shirt just enough to see the catch, and, with surprisingly little unnecessary skin-on-skin contact, undid the latch. "There," he said, his jaw set and clenching. "Now hurry up."

Claire gave him a look of pure relief as she turned to use the restroom. When she finished, Jason opened the door and helped her re-latch her pants without her asking. When she was settled back into the basement - her new semi-permanent residence, she supposed, and he had taken off her handcuffs, Jason made a quick trip up and then down to bring her a peanut butter sandwich and a lukewarm Coke. She took it gratefully and scarfed it down, despite her stomach's attempts to toss it back up.

Jason crouched, hands on the ground, watching her every move. It was pretty creepy, all things considered. As if he were watching for signs of weakness. But that was stupid, she thought to herself, after all - he'd had her in a much more compromising situation upstairs earlier. But it was something about being down here, with no way out even if she could get past him, that made her heart pound. Jason was still watching her, expectantly.

When she finished, he took her can and napkin and turned to leave. "Hey, Jason?"

Jason turned back around. "What?"

"Thank you," she said softly. "For the food. And the Coke. And... for helping me when we were upstairs."

Something changed in his face - Claire wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing, but he didn't sound quite as defeated when he replied, "You're welcome."

Then, he was gone, the trap door to the basement was closed, and Claire was left alone in the darkness. She lay down, resting her head on her folded arm, and thought about what had just happened. Jason had been... almost human. Actually, he had behaved _entirely_ human. And that wasn't what she expected of him. He was a sadist - there was plenty of proof of that. And yet, he had her here, alone, completely vulnerable, and he had been almost kind to her. I was too much for her to think on right now.

With a yawn and a sigh, Claire drifted back to sleep, wondering if the Jason she had met today would be the Jason she would see tomorrow.


	7. 6 - Hannah

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So... yeah. I know. Jason, man. Right? But look, look. I have everything under control. So, I originally wrote this chapter about 3 days ago and it's been bugging me ever since. It was originally from another character's POV, contained entirely different information, and it was... too much. It was unbelieveable (Yes. I said it. A story about vampires that exist in a small Texas town and basically hold the entire town hostage had a chapter in it that was unbelieveable). It wasn't the info, it just was... too much, too fast, too soon. So I'm rewriting this chapter now, fresh and clean. By the way, for those of you interested, I'll be posting another story (just a one shot) involving Doctor Daybourne and Myrnin. Not a lot to do with this storyline (which is why it's going down as an entirely different story) but it will take place just before this story began, the night of Myrnin's funeral. Anyway, I hope you read, I hope you enjoy, I hope you review/fav/follow. Much love! ~ Billie

HANNAH

I couldn't believe I had agreed to this. I sat in the back of an old cadillac with a grievously injured young girl's head resting in my lap. I didn't want to be doing this. I'd gone away, I'd done my duty as an American citizen and I'd fought the good fight. When I was discharged, I'd come home to a town that I knew involved fighting, but I had convinced myself it was a different kind of fighting. That had been a lie. I'd been to war, and I'd come home to war. Holding the girl gently in my arms, I didn't question it. She was just as much a victim of war as anyone I had met overseas. I stared out the window at the town I knew and kind of loved. I was tired of war. I was tired of fighting an uphill battle. I was just plain tired.

I looked at the two men sitting in the front seat. Shane Collins, so damn young and so damn angry. He knew he was a dead man walking - he had been since he'd been born. And yet he just kept going and going. It wouldn't be long now. It wouldn't be long for any of us. And as much as I hated his rash, impulsive behaviors, I admired his tenacity. He never stopped, he never really slowed down, unless it was to get a kiss from Claire. He kept fighting against all the things he thought were wrong in life - himself included. It would be sad when he died. But he would. We all would, sooner or later. And, judging by the state of the town, I was going to bet on the former. Still, if he could keep going, I could, too.

Except I didn't want to. I wanted to go back home. I wanted to lay down in my bed and stare at the ceiling and talk to Richard. I did that when I was alone. I wasn't foolish enough to believe he could hear me, but there had been so many stories we'd never gotten to share. So many thoughts and dreams only just realized - gone in an instant. I'd seen death in my life - more than my fair share of it. I didn't want to see any more.

Until Shane had shown up this morning, I had been ready to just lay down and wait to die. I was still tempted to do exactly that. I'd given up my position as chief of police. I'd given up on everything that had ever meant anything to me. I hated humans and vampires alike now. I hated the fact that I was alive and Richard was dead. What good was life without love?

I closed my eyes as we passed the old Morrell estate, now up for sale to the highest bidder, if what Shane had told me was true. I didn't care. After Richard's death, after things calmed down - before they got crazy again - I had contacted Monica and requested a few minor items from her of Richard's. Nothing that was worth anything monetarily, but things that had meant something to me. To us. Books he had read to me as we lay curled up in his bed, magazines we had flipped through together. His watch. A few of his shirts that he'd loved watching me walk around in as we made breakfast together. She'd been more than willing to oblige me. Monica wasn't the girl she'd been before Richard's death. She was far more human now.

And I was far less.

I wasn't surprised when we drove up to Glass House. I didn't expect us to pass it, then turn the corner and drive up into the back yard. I also didn't expect us to park in the shed out back. It was an incredibly tight fit, but we got it in and we got out. Carefully, Shane lead us to the back door, opening it swiftly and gesturing for us all to enter. I carried the girl, Daphne, into the house. When it clicked behind us, we all breathed a sigh of relief.

"We can't stay here long," Shane said. "We just had to come here to ditch the car and grab weapons and reinforcements. Claire! Michael! Eve!"

Silence. Daphne groaned and shifted in my arms. Her breathing seemed irregular. She was feverish. She needed medical assistance. And soon. I shifted her weight in my arms as Shane continued to call for his roommates. I didn't have the heart to tell him I didn't think they were here. He'd put it together himself in a few minutes.

I glanced back down at Daphne. I didn't think she could wait for Shane to realize the situation. "Shane. We need to get her some help. Serious medical help. Or she's going to die."

Shane and the man who had driven the car both turned back to me worried. "But she's breathing," the man said, "And her heart's beating."

I shook my head. "She's getting weaker," I replied. "I think she must have internal damage."

I'd seen it before in my time as a soldier. Someone gets hurt, but they don't think it's that bad. They keep going - don't get checked by a medic. They're fine as long as they're moving. And then they lay down, and that rib, the one they fractured but didn't know they'd fractured, it moves. Just barely, but it moves. And suddenly, they're gone. Drowning in their own blood. It could have happened back when she was attacked. It could have happened when we got out of the car - it had involved a large amount of maneuvering. But either way, Daphne's time seemed to be running out.

The two men in front of me just stared. "Collins. Think. We need help and we need it now. I won't have another innocent person die in my arms!"

I hadn't realized I was yelling. I hadn't realized I was crying. But I was doing both. The voice that came out of me didn't sound like me. I had always been good in an emergency. I had been lauded for it in the army. It had gotten me my position as chief of police here in Morganville. I didn't lose myself in the moment. I waited. I had always waited until I was alone to show my weakness. I couldn't wait anymore.

The shock of me losing it was enough to make Shane jump into action. He turned, running through the kitchen and living room to the foyer. I followed him. There, he threw open the front door and gestured to a newly built house across the street.

"Go!" He said forcefully, as if I would need to be persuaded. "We'll be there when we can. Don't let her die."

I ran, my long legs carrying me across the yard and into the street in a few powerful strides. I may have let my training lapse these past few months, but my body knew action. My legs knew how to run as easily as my lungs knew how to breathe. I was born to move. And move I did.

I was on the front porch of the house in seconds, my elbow pressed to the buzzer. The only reply I received was, "Basement." Then the door unlocked and I was in. I sprinted toward an open doorway, took the stairs down, and stopped. A woman I'd never seen before was pulling on a pair of surgical gloves. Myrnin, Morganville's resident mad scientist was throwing a sheet over what looked like an autopsy table. And in the corner, a girl was pulling out medical equipment. Myrnin took Daphne from my arms as she moaned pitifully and gasped for air.

The girl turned to face me and I had to look twice before I recognized her. Dressed in cheap clothes and make up free, she barely resembled the Monica Morrell I had known all of her life. She shot me a look of fear and then turned back to the makeshift surgery suite, where Myrnin and the red-headed woman were consulting one another about heart rate, blood pressure, and oxygen saturation.

I just couldn't do this. I wasn't ready. I had told Shane I would fight beside him, but he didn't understand. I couldn't do it any more. All of the bravery I had, all of the strength I had always shown - it had all left me when Richard breathed his last. I was broken. I was weak. I was useless. I sat down on a lab stool near the door, put my head in my hands, and cried.


	8. 7 - Theo

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter was originally written in a different format as well. I liked it, but I think I like this one more. Maybe. We'll see. I know it's not terribly action-packed, but this is my The Empire Strikes Back of the trilogy - if, you know, the trilogy was Star Wars and not Morganville. As always, please read, please enjoy, please review. Much love! ~ Billie

THEO

I hovered over my patient, checking vitals. Unlike most, this one was actually human. She was a young mother here in Morganville, and suffered from anemia. It meant she donated blood far less often than most of the others, and it was the fact that I treated her that encouraged Amelie to make an exception to the town's "blood tax law" for her. I made an effort to treat as many of the townsfolk who suffered from disorders that made it difficult for them to donate blood as possible. It was the least I could do - Amelie usually listened when I recommended that the taxes be adjusted for my patients, as long as I had legitimate medical reasons.

I took a few drops of Mrs. Wallace's blood using a finger prick and tested to ensure that the iron supplements I had recommended for her were working. Things looked much better. I turned to her with a smile and gave her the good news. "Your iron count looks much better than it did before the supplements, Mrs. Wallace. Are you suffering from any of the ill effects we spoke about last time you were here?"

She swallowed and kept her gaze lowered. I was disappointed that she was so nervous around me, but I understood it. Many of my human patients had difficulty separating me from my brethren, despite the fact that I took my Hippocratic Oath very seriously. It was one of the reasons that I didn't advertise as a human doctor, only took recommended patients from a colleague at Morganville's clinic.

"No," she said. "No problems at all."

"And are you seeing a benefit from use of the supplement?"

"Oh yes," she said, and her face lit up as she smiled. "I can finally chase little Kayleigh around all day without feeling dizzy and light-headed."

"Very good," I said, smiling back at her. "Children, particularly toddlers, can be very demanding. I know how much energy it takes to look after them."

Mrs. Wallace nodded. "It really does. I have no idea how my mom did it. There were six of us."

"Obviously, your mother is a superhero," I replied, making notes in my chart. "Now, if there are no concerns, I recommend you keep your dosage the same as now. I'm also recommending your taxes remain where they currently are. You are obviously healthier now, but there is no need to go mucking about with such things any time soon."

"Thank you, doctor," she said with a smile.

"Oh, and Mrs. Wallace, one more thing."

She turned to me and faced me full-on, her eyes meeting mine. "Yes?"

I sighed. I hated being the bearer of bad news, particularly news this bad. "There has been an incident. One that is very dangerous for this town. I want you to listen to what I tell you and listen closely. You are no longer safe outside of your home after sunset for any reason. Do not walk down any shaded alleys, even during the day. Keep your cellular phone charged and turned on, and I recommend you and your friends travel everywhere in groups.

"Do not open your door to anyone after dark for any reason, even if they say they need your help. Make sure all of your outside lights work. And above all else, keep your daughter in your sight at all times. And if you haven't already, I recommend you teach your little girl stranger safety as well as what to do in an emergency."

Mrs. Wallace blanched. "What?"

I smiled sadly. "I'm afraid I cannot go into much detail at this time, but I want you to know that there are a great many people working as hard as they can to fix the situation at hand as quickly as possible. I recommend you call your friends and loved ones and pass my warning on to them, and encourage them to pass it on as well."

The young woman swallowed loudly. "Yes sir, Doctor Goldman. Th-thank you for the warning."

I watched her leave, suddenly much more wary than she'd been when she entered. I watched through my office window as she ran across the sunny parking lot to her car, locking her doors when she got in. I prayed she would be safe.

After filing Mrs. Wallace's medical records in our records room and locking the cabinet, I returned to my office. I sat down behind my desk and avoided making eye contact with the visitor I had left waiting while I attended to my patient. "I had to warn her," I said, checking my appointment book. Mrs. Wallace was my last patient of the day.

"Yes, I suppose you did," Amelie acknowledged. "Hopefully, she will pass it on to a great many others."

I nodded. "We must be careful what we say."

"Did you tell her I was dead?"

"Absolutely not. I merely told her there was a situation, and that capable individuals were working to handle it as swiftly as possible."

The Founder nodded. "Well said."

I reached into my desk and pulled out the veneered, white-gold plated stake I had pulled from the Founder's chest this morning when I found her laying at the door to my home. "I must admit. A fake wooden stake dipped in gold so that it would resemble silver? Brilliant. Would you like this back?"

Amelie held her hand out. "Yes. It is one of a kind, given to me by Myrnin a few years back. He encouraged me to keep it around 'just in case.' I always thought he meant it as a joke."

"Well, one could never know whether or not he was serious with any certainty," I conceded, dropping the stake into her waiting hand. "You must miss him terribly."

There was the slightest of pauses, enough to let me know that the Founder was planning her words carefully. "Yes. As you know, he and I knew one another for centuries. I always knew I could trust him, even when we disagreed. I cannot say that honestly about another of my species. Even you would disregard my orders if they interfered with your moral code."

I nodded in agreement. I had done so before, and would certainly do so again. "I appreciate your giving me a rundown of the situation here in town," I said, hoping she would get my hint that this conversation was ending.

"Of course, Theo. I trust we can count on your continued support?"

I nodded. "Of course. Humanity does not need to be enslaved in order for us to survive. And to believe otherwise is not only foolish, it is dangerous. The only thing more dangerous than a cornered human is a group of cornered humans."

The Founder nodded and left my office without another word. I pulled out my telephone book and began calling every human patient I had to spread the word of the very serious danger they were all in.


	9. 8 - Oliver

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry guys. I missed you. We just had a lot going on, and so things got put on the back burner, and then they got taken off the stove all together, and now things are back and I'm feeling pretty good, and I think I have the time to update at least fairly regularly. I hope you're still here. I hope you're ready to keep reading along. It would break my heart if you didn't want to anymore. So anyway, as always, I'd absolutely love it if you'd read, enjoy, review, follow, and/or favorite this thing. As always, I own absolutely nothing, but wish I did. As always, much love to you and yours from me. ~Billie

OLIVER

I sighed heavily as I waited in Amelie's private room located in the Glass House. There were only three vampires in the town who knew its whereabouts, and one of them was dead. I lay back on the sofa and stared at the ceiling, replaying the events of the past few months in my head. How had I been so weak? How could Naomi have taken me over so fully? My head throbbed, but I had to remember. I had to know. I couldn't let it happen again.

It had been my fault - that much I remembered. I had been so overcome with the need for power, so sure of my hold over Amelie that I'd overstepped my bounds. I'd become foolish. When Naomi had shown up at my doorstep what felt like years ago, I had thought I was strong enough to overwhelm her. I was not. Her strength had slapped me down as if I were a child and she my mother.

Now that her hold on me was weakening, I was livid. Not only with Naomi for playing me for a fool, but also with myself for being so damned foolish. I had spent a great number of years in my life being a servant, and an even greater number of years being a leader. I knew the difference between a good leader and a weak one. I'd been exceptional at finding and exploiting weaknesses. I had been prideful in my belief that I was going to be able to exploit Amelie's trust in me. And her devotion.

Instead, my great pride had been my downfall. I had been worse than a servant, I'd been a blood slave. Naomi made me weak, sick, desperate for more. Even her blood itself was vicious, parasitic. With her in my veins, she had turned me into a virtual corpse, rotting from the inside out. She had perverted my very soul.

But now, I had Amelie within me. Where Naomi's blood had festered like an infection, Amelie's blood sang through my veins, bringing back my strength, my freedom of will, my health. While my head still felt as if it were going to explode, I knew the pain would lessen. My thoughts were clearer than they'd been since before the draug. I knew what I was. I knew who I was. And I knew now, more than ever, why Amelie was touted as an amazing leader by those whose opinions actually meant something - because she was.

Amelie had always been strong, but in my own conceited mind, I thought she was only feigning strength to hide her weakness. I believed that she had allowed certain individuals to poison her mind - to weaken her position. I had believed that her concessions to the humans who populated our city were because she was incapable of ruling with an iron fist - that she allowed them just enough power that they would not rise against her, and therefore would not learn that they could defeat her.

Even when I saw her exercise her right as Founder and lay low those who opposed her, I had always thought it was because those who opposed her were weak. I had always believed that I would be able to best them as well, because, in my mind, Amelie was weaker than me.

But now, now I knew just how wrong I had been.

Amelie had broken a hold on me that had been repeatedly reinforced for months with one taste of her blood. It would have taken me months, if not years, to break a hold as powerful as the one cast over me with my blood. Not only that, but there was a strange feeling of simply being better now that Amelie had fed me. That freedom Amelie offered that I'd always taken as being a symbol of her weakness now felt as if it were strengthening me - helping me to achieve a power far greater than I'd ever achieved before.

The feeling caught me off guard as I suddenly realized what the freedom really was - it was faith. I suddenly had the faith that I would be able to be who Amelie needed me to be; I would be able to be who Morganville needed me to be. As I rested and turned over the last few months in my head, I realized the entire town was falling apart not because of what the humans had been doing, but because of what we vampires were doing. Humanity wasn't failing us, we were failing them.

But was it too late to save Morganville?

Even if it wasn't, how would we go about doing it? Amelie was dead, as far as the town was concerned. We couldn't even begin a whisper campaign that she was still alive because we didn't know who we could trust, and the last thing we needed was Naomi and her hounds searching us out. Myrnin, Amelie's closest friend and greatest supporter, truly was dead. I closed my eyes and imagined how infuriating his commentary would be if he could somehow see what was going on in my head. I could imagine his laughter and his snarky comments about how I was too ignorant to see the answer when it was so clear to him.

The worst part was if he had been here, he probably would have come up with an idea that was not only completely ridiculous, but that would also work. And I would be too stubborn to listen to him, and Amelie would calmly chide me for being stubborn and she would, as always, take his side. And the damned solution would work. And then I would have one more reason to hate him with his silly smirk and his terrible fashion sense and his brilliant but broken mind.

I was struck with the sudden realization that I would miss the madman.

Piggybacking on that realization was the fear that I was going insane.

We had chosen to meet back at Glass House for a reason. There was only one single person in the entire town who even began to think along the same lines as Myrnin - Claire. But I hadn't found her when I'd checked the house earlier. No one had been home. I assumed they were laying low somewhere, waiting for the sunrise, but even now, the house was entirely empty. Still, the children who made this house their home wouldn't stay gone long. And as irritating as every single one of them was, they were some of the only individuals who had the unique advantage of knowing both sides of the spectrum.

Claire, with her knowledge of the internal working of the town's security system and the portals was our greatest of assets. She was intelligent, sympathetic to both humans and vampires alike, and, though she didn't realize it yet, after working with Myrnin for the last two years, she was in the unique position to "channel" his thoughts and to assist us in figuring out a solution to the problems we faced.

Michael, having been human so recently, was another great asset. He had kept ties with humanity. He understood the plight that the humans were experiencing just as much as he realized the need for we vampires to have a safe haven to call our own. While he didn't necessarily like the way things were, he at least understood why they were the way they were. We had been foolish to not consult him before on how to make things better here in town.

Eve, too, had reason to make Morganville work. Though I hated the thought of her and Michael's relationship, it gave her a perspective that even Claire didn't have. Claire had formed bonds with certain vampires, yes, but she did not love one. At least, not the way that Eve loved Michael. Mrs. Glass, for all her bravado, was in a position to not only try to make things best for humanity, but to also make things best for the vampires - it was pivotal for her and Michael's relationship that he be able to function just as well, if not better than she. After all, he was the dangerous one.

Even Shane, with all his anger and rage would be an asset. Not only did he have contacts with those who were most dangerous to my kind, but he was a sympathetic figure in the eyes of most of the town. A troubled boy who had suffered most terribly at the hands of a system that simply did not work. He was, for all his negative traits, a likeable young man. He was a hard worker, and he was strong not because he was truly physically powerful, but because he had learned that strength through suffering. Regardless of what I told myself, deep down I knew that he and I were quite alike in that aspect.

I checked my phone, only to find nothing from Amelie. She had assured me she would send me a sign when she had recovered from the faux staking I had given her in the square the night before. It was taking everything I could to remain where I was and not go out searching for her in fear that she was somehow in harm's way. I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of my blood rushing through my veins, singing to me a song of faith and hope, telling me that Amelie was not only far stronger than I had ever imagined, but far stronger than I. The faith I felt stirring within me told me to wait. That my patience would be rewarded.

It was then that I heard the car pull into the backyard. I stood and watched as Shane and Hannah Moses emerged from the shed out back, Hannah carrying a young woman who appeared to be minutes from death. Behind them both came a man who looked vaguely familiar, but whose name and face I couldn't quite place. I heard them enter the house, but didn't leave my hiding spot as they rushed around, grabbing what I could only imagine were whatever weapons the occupants had hidden throughout the house.

Shane came up the stairs to the second floor. I heard him walk across the hall. I heard him open Claire's bedroom door and speak her name. The tightness in his voice told me he had expected her to be home. I heard the tension in his steps as he left and entered what I assumed was his own bedroom. He didn't know where she was, either.

The man I couldn't quite place came up the stairs about that time, and it sounded as if he and Shane began to load something into bags. Soon, they headed back down the stairs and I heard the front door open and then shut for a second time. I couldn't see from the room where they went, and I couldn't yet allow myself to be seen by anyone other than the occupants of Glass House, so against my body's urging to go out and find out what was going on, I remained in Amelie's haven of a room, waiting for the woman who had saved me to come back home so that together we could save the town she loved above all else.


End file.
